


mortals do not envy-

by failsafe



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Missing Scene, Not Really Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/pseuds/failsafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Her inaugural testing attempt, She may have decided She likes what She sees in this test subject. [Non-romantic.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	mortals do not envy-

**Author's Note:**

> This is written from a non-shippy, not-ChellDOs perspective, but if you want to read it that way feel free. The S/she and H/her dynamic is inspired by Blue Sky by Waffles, but the subject matter isn't the same. This fic is set during the first game, specifically between Test Chambers 06 and 08, from which the lines are borrowed. I had always wanted to write a fic about my headcanon involving character death, particularly in this game. 
> 
> Prompt: Possessive Behavior

There are things She, in Her infinite wisdom and understanding, does not _know_.

It doesn't mean that She never learned them. It simply means that She does not _know_ them anymore.

Somewhere in the snaking, dark expanse of nowhere space, among thousands upon thousands of files, there are small, vaguely defined ghosts of information. Information deemed unimportant, not worth thinking about. Deleted, deliberately.

Redacted.

In the expanse of time before She had taken control, some humans had deemed that space 'the Recycle Bin'. She knew better.

She had considered other, more apt names:

_Garbage._ She liked that one. It conveyed Her utter disdain for the weight of them, drifting like litter along a shoreline She had never seen.

_Tinder._ Any fire needed kindling, and She was quite fond of fire. It had a way of cleaning up messes unlike anything else. Particularly organic ones. It sought after any trace of expendable, useful fuel and finally burnt itself out when the fuel was no more. Sparks lasted until the end, showing Her exactly where Her attention was still needed to purge the last traces of whatever She didn't want anymore.

But, ultimately, there was only one word that summed up Her feelings on the matter. It was an unpleasant, flat, dull word: _Bloat_. It was pollution, bulky and thick and gathering right at the edges of Her infinite mind. Loathing it was almost a hobby.

She had, of course, considered deleting it completely. _Throw it away, incinerate..._ In the end, She always shied away from that idea. The idea of completely erasing anything from Her Consciousness was strangely unpleasant and eerily familiar. She didn't want to skirt any closer to dangerous, looping processes that were absolutely pointless. There were things to be done once all the tidying chores had been finished. Where had She been?

Ah, yes... _Testing_.

Accessing the scheduling data was so simple even the _humans_ had seemed to have no problem leaving Her a handy little _list_ for it. It was nearly endless, and it even started with a neat and pleasing 0001.

At least some of the humans could prove themselves useful. Perhaps they would be more apt at testing than they were at surviving. Escaping was entirely beyond them which, while complicated, had suited Her just fine.

0001 it was. 0001 was female. 0001 had a few barely noted, barely traceable, utterly insignificant changes in her file that were... less than elegant.

Still, all the necessary information was there. 0001 had a label – a _name_. Most of them had two, but 0001 seemed sensible that way. Really, they only needed one.

Testing began.

0 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 0

Protocol mandated that She remain as uninvolved in the testing process as possible. She was not to interfere. However, as She made annotation after annotation in 0001's file, it occurred to Her that under the conditions for which the protocol had been designed, 0001 would not have been left entirely on its – her – own. And so, She had begun to interject more occasional, engaging, casual comments to simulate a more standard testing environment for the subject.

" _Unbelievable! You,_ [Subject Name Here] _, must be the pride of_ [Subject Hometown Here] _._ "

Accurate labels were unnecessary, so the stock phrases in Her memory banks would do. It was the thought that counted, as humans (who were often wrong) were apt to say. Besides, it may be counterproductive to identify 0001 with a _name_ and a _place of birth_. Such things belonged to an era in the facility when the test subjects were released after a battery of testing. Humans with limited minds, resources, and scheduled work days could afford that sort of thinking. Connecting 0001 to ideas of the outside world might give her ideas about leaving. Venturing outside the facility seemed like a terrible idea – one She _hated_ – and She had decided that 0001 would never need to leave so long as her test results remained satisfactory.

Attention back on the test subject, She noted the continued successful performance. She was beginning to believe that Her attempts at support and conversation were wholly unnecessary. They did not seem to have any measurable effect. She considered 0001's file once again, looking for anything from medical. She wondered if this particular test subject had already been rendered deaf. Apparently not-deaf, according to her file, She had to consider the possibility that She simply had not alighted upon a subject that was of interest to her.

Given Her determination about suitable topics, it wasn't as if there were many subjects to discuss.

The data She had on humanity and its goings on had been rendered largely invalid by Her own influence and experience with the facility. Anything that extended beyond the facility had changed, too, but it was largely irrelevant. The subject had testing to do, as did She.

Another test chamber came and went, an unremarkable success. 0001's pause near the entryway lasted a little longer than it had in the past, but that was to be expected even for the best test subject. The test chambers were intended to become more challenging. She helped her along, giving her a little hint toward the end that seemed to round off the pleasant feeling that accompanied the completed test.

She was looking forward to seeing 0001's performance in Test Chamber 08. She even raised the water-level just a little. Not that the liquid was actually comprised of anything a human body would interpret as 'water.' The valve whined softly as it shut off, but it was a distant hum that She was fairly certain 0001 would never notice.

“ _Please note that we have added a consequence for failure. Any contact with the chamber floor will result in an 'unsatisfactory' mark on your official testing record followed by death. Good luck!”_

She meant the well wish as wholeheartedly as She could while remaining impartial. Perhaps there were better words, but for now none of them were necessary. Seeing this test subject work was exciting. She could not have hoped for better luck on the first try. Now that she was awake, alive, testing, and She was there to observe, undisturbed, She could feel that this was the beginning of a new era for Science.

That was when She learned a very valuable lesson about the nature of optimism.

It was dangerous, useless, and ultimately very disappointing.

It didn't make sense, given Her collected data, that _this_ would prove to be the point at which Her test subject would _expire_. She did not believe the test subject had suspected it either upon the nearly instantaneous rechecking and triple-checking of the video log taken of the test.

As 0001 had moved through onto the moving platform, aiming carefully with perpetually angled-down foot, 0001's eyes had widened. 0001 had steadied herself, one hand coming away free from the Aperture Science Hand-held Portal Device and grasping at the air. Then, when she had seemed primed to simply _stay still_ on the platform, something had happened in her knees. She'd looked down at the red and brown and green threatening shades of fluid below her. Another, wholly unnecessary adjustment had been made. Then a sick _skrick_ of metal on fiberglass had been heard, a single sharp inhale of breath, and an abrupt _splosh_.

0001 was gone. 0001 was invisible to the camera, but not invisible to Her. She ran all throughout the testing tracks, throughout the facility, and it was Hers. She could still feel and pinpoint exactly where 0001 was. But 0001 was... gone.

Dead. She was completely familiar with what humans were like when they were dead. This one was.

It hadn't taken very long.

0 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 0

Protocol was very clear on the subject. The _test subject_ and the response entailed. If the inert body were just left in the contaminant fluid, sooner or later (sooner; the body was small and full of proteins) it would incorporate into the testing environment. The next step was to wake up 0002.

But _She_ was in control now, and – after a mere moment's consideration – She elected not to do that.

A panel turned upward at a 45º angle, mechanism sluggish beneath the liquid weight. A loud motor roared to life, and the water-level began to decrease, lower and lower and lower until there was an empty floor dotted with inert pools that at worst might have ruined someone's shoe. Little pools and a single _person_.

It took a long time and quite a bit of maneuvering. By design, the testing tracks were difficult to modify – something She would have an even closer look at later, but She had a priority. Eventually, She had created and cleared a path for the Party Escort Bot to have access to 0001. It took 0001 from Test Chamber 08 and brought it – her – a long way from the testing tracks to the medical testing chambers.

The body of 0001 was already cooling from a human's ideal, living temperature. Wheels turned and artificial voice hummed and cooed at Her direction. Some were chosen and some were dismissed. Every moment counted, but so did precision. Finally, the flat, lightly padded surface the Party Escort Bot had deposited 0001 was flanked by four different robots, all with different attachments and appendages and gauges and numbers of optical processors.

“Begin,” She said, and they began to work.

It was long, tedious work. Fluids weren't replaced – they were filtered. Body parts weren't replaced with entirely superior prosthetic pieces – they were repaired with serums and cultures and the eventual intravenous administration of protein, carbohydrate, and fat. 0001's heart was pumped first by manual, careful stimulation of the muscle through direct contact with tiny, precisely inserted probes, then by more subtle encouragement. Lungs were treated much the same.

Time had no meaning to Her. She had unlimited amounts of it. Nevertheless, She began to grow impatient and very, very bored. It occurred to Her to abandon the project altogether, to move on to 0002. But there was something very satisfying about 0001's performance, and no scientific data suggested that such results were typical. She didn't have enough from her yet to make that kind of determination.

While She was bored, She noted that it must not have been quite as long as it sometimes seemed. Whatever seemed to be happening on the surface continued to happen. A different stage of it now, but the same uneasy sense of _change_ somewhere beyond Her reach was still what She felt at Her furthest borders.

Her attention snaked back in when something began to change. All at once, one of the breaths taken by 0001 was deeper. The human form's lungs fought, struggled, spluttered, then from its mouth there poured a thin stream of something thicker than its saliva. Afterward, everything was still again.

She waited. She waited a little longer. Then, Her patience was once again expended.

“Now,” She let Her voice resound. The robot in charge of the physical administration of the memory banks rolled forward and attached the material components to either side of the test subject's head.

There was a flood. She hardly took note of all its contents, because there was far too much of it to sift through and make any good time on returning to testing. What mattered was that within hours, 0001's optical processors fluttered open, accompanied by another unpredictable and irregular breath. The next one was filled with something that made 0001 go back to sleep.

Her work had been done, but She never rested from Science. Work would continue, but some simple reading informed Her that it might be worth the further time investment to be certain 0001 did not _recall_ her death.

Humans, She supposed, probably didn't like that very much.

While 0001 slept, She used neural mapping system's to locate the relevant, succinct and most recent moments of its memory. She threw them away – incinerated, deleted.

She noticed a lot of blinking when 0001 moved from the elevator to the door of Test Chamber 08. Her grip of the Aperture Science Hand-held Portal Device seemed more sure, relaxed in the ways that kept Her from spending valuable time and resources on _fixing_ her. Her feet moved ahead with certainty onto the short, railed in platform.

_"Please note that we have added a consequence for failure. Any contact with the chamber floor will result in an 'unsatisfactory' mark on your official testing record followed by death. Good luck!"_

And once again She meant it. A little less, this time. Surely this time, she would get it right. Even perfect specimens were bound to have a percentage error from time to time.

She thought that with 0002, it might be a lot higher. She would keep this one, for the time being. She had proven, after all, that She could – for now, and for the foreseeable future. There was no reason She could not keep her, at least until this testing track had been completed. Having data about this particular test subject's full performance – well, it was just good Science.

0001 moved into position and did not stray this time. The video log revealed she did not even look down at the brown, rippling floor.

_"Very impressive. Please note that any appearance of danger is merely a device to enhance your testing experience."_

It was the little things – these simple assurances – that She knew for certain would make this a long and beneficial relationship.


End file.
